


i should move slower, but the last year has been kind of rough

by mullets (cowboyjoestar)



Category: Tiger & Bunny
Genre: (set some time btwn the series end and the rising), First Kiss, Love Confessions, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-16
Updated: 2020-06-16
Packaged: 2021-03-03 19:54:08
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,570
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24751150
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cowboyjoestar/pseuds/mullets
Summary: “What’s so funny, Bunny?” Kotetsu asks, then laughs at his own joke like it’s the funniest thing in the world. Barnaby rolls his eyes as Kotetsu kicks his feet up and passes over the remote.Unfortunately, it’s Kotetsu’s night to pick a movie, and as soon as the title screen loads Barnaby’s eyes roll again — another cheesy old action flick, which he’ll undoubtedly hate.“I just think you should hire a maid or get some new friends,” he says, leaning back against the cushions, “I’m getting tired of either reminding you to do your dishes or getting swindled into doing them for you.”
Relationships: Barnaby "Bunny" Brooks Jr./Kaburagi T. Kotetsu
Comments: 7
Kudos: 72





	i should move slower, but the last year has been kind of rough

**Author's Note:**

> hi. i wrote this fic a couple years ago, and reading it tonight i realized it was fuck-awful. so, in honor of t&b season 2, i rewrote it. please enjoy, i have been waiting for this dead fandom to return since like 2011.

“Hey, Bunny, do you think people think you’re weird?” 

Barnaby crouches behind his television, attempting to detangle the mess of wires and connect Kotetsu’s DVD player, while Kotetsu plops down with two takeout boxes and two matching cans of beer. Barnaby delicately wipes his dusty hands on his pants and stands, raising a brow as he takes the empty seat on Kotetsu’s old white couch.

“What?”

Kotetsu shovels a heaping spoonful of curry into his mouth and hums in satisfaction before speaking, muffled and messy. “Well, you know... people don’t know I’m Wild Tiger, so it probably looks strange when a young guy like you hangs out with some old geezer like me all the time, right?”

Barnaby covers his mouth with a slender hand, coolly stifling a laugh. “I think they probably imagine you’re very cool, considering you're with _the_ Barnaby Brooks Jr. all day.”

Kotetsu snorts and nods to himself, seemingly satisfied, before digging back into his plate.

“But don’cha think they wonder about your other friends?” His attention easily flits back to his meal, but Barnaby pauses with his spoon in the air. 

“I don’t have any other friends, Kotetsu,” he says casually, like talking about the weather. 

Kotetsu meets his eyes, an easy smile threatening at the corners of his lips. “That’s untrue, Bunny, what about the other heroes?” 

Barnaby shrugs, lazily dragging his gaze across Kotetsu’s face as he shoves another spoonful into his mouth. Barnaby cringes, and wishes that weren’t so charming.

“What about them? I can’t see myself inviting any of them to my house, but you’re there every time we’re not at your place, right?” Kotetsu nods, and Barnaby can’t help but smile, almost suggesting a grin in his own weird, stunted way. “So... it’s different.” 

Kotetsu grins back. 

They eat in comfortable silence, save for Barnaby’s occasional fussing over Kotetsu’s manners, or apparent lack thereof. When they’re finally sated, Barnaby stands first, stretching until his spine pops before reaching for their discarded plates. Kotetsu grabs for his own, a protest on his lips, but Barnaby’s quicker; he yanks it out of reach and meanders to the kitchen alone. As the trash can swigs shut, his eyes find the half-full sink, and he _tsk’s_. A part of him is sure that if he weren’t around, the old man would never think to do the dishes at all. He snickers as he returns to his seat.

”What’s so funny, Bunny?” Kotetsu asks, then laughs at his own joke like it’s the funniest thing in the world. Barnaby rolls his eyes as Kotetsu kicks his feet up and passes over the remote. 

Unfortunately, it’s Kotetsu’s night to pick a movie, and as soon as the title screen loads Barnaby’s eyes roll again — another cheesy old action flick, which he’ll undoubtedly hate.

“I just think you should hire a maid or get some new friends,” he says, leaning back against the cushions, “I’m getting tired of either reminding you to do your dishes or getting swindled into doing them for you.”

For all it’s worth, Kotetsu has the decency to look sheepish, worrying at the back of his neck as Barnaby presses play. It almost makes him feel guilty; Kotetsu knows him better than anyone, but he still struggled with deciphering the younger man’s sarcastic tone on a good day.

Kotetsu rebounds quickly. “I guess I’m just lucky, partner. I have you and Kaede to keep me on track when I don’t even know I’ve derailed yet.” He smiles his easy smile and tucks his hands behind his head, back against the couch cushions. In that moment, Barnaby hates him, hates the confused little flutter in his chest that always seems to follow when Kotetsu fits him in the same niche as Kaede. He’s never sure what it means. Barnaby looks back and finds Kotetsu fully engrossed in the movie, even though he’s probably seen it a few times at least. 

Barnaby makes a weak attempt to follow the movie’s plot, but it’s too shallow to hold his focus. He finds himself in a familiar predicament, distracted as he follows the lines of his partners face in the television glow instead. Who just _says_ that kind of thing, anyway? He tries working back from there, justifying his own self-sabotaging logic, but it...this... _Kotetsu_ confuses him. He knows the situation must remain balanced on the edge of something he can’t quite name, as much for Kotetsu’s sake as his own. He just... forgets the why when they’re so close like this in private, unguarded and away from prying eyes.

As if sensing Barnaby’s internal conflict, the old man chooses the wrong (right?) moment to look over and break the silence, some cheap commentary on his lips. Instead, he catches Barnaby staring. His brows furrow, and Barnaby’s grateful for the darkness to hide his flush as he frowns in return, turning away just-so. _Careless,_ he scolds himself, _stupid._

“Don’t say things like that off the cuff, old man,” Barnaby says at last, flailing for a comeback that nobody had asked for. He wiggles a scolding finger, though he still won’t return his gaze. “And don’t compare me to your daughter.” He could do fussy. He could do pompous. Yes, go with what he knows.

Kotetsu laughs, reaching over to ruffle Barnaby’s hair, but Barnaby’s reflexes are quicker, earning Kotetsu a sharp smack to his wrist rather than a fist full of honey-blonde. This only serves to make Kotetsu laugh harder and try again.

Barnaby, at this point in their partnership, _knows_ where this is going, and he doesn’t have it in him for a wrestling match tonight. He heaves a sigh and concedes. Kotetsu buries his fingers into Barnaby’s soft curls and brushes through enthusiastically, watching the defined curls bounce back into place again and again. Though this is technically a loss for Barnaby, he’s long since abandoned keeping score, allowing himself instead to selfishly enjoy the misplaced, indulgent intimacy Kotetsu offers to him off the air. 

“I really don’t know what you mean, Bunny,” Kotetsu mumbles after a pause, blinking like he just remembered they were even supposed to be talking. He shrugs then, lets his arm fall onto the back of the couch casually. His hand stills, but doesn’t move from the loose ringlets at the nape of Barnaby’s neck, drifting free of their careful styling. “You two are the most important people in my life, and that’s no secret.”

Kotetsu takes a healthy swig from his can of beer, and Barnaby gingerly reaches forward to grab his own. He needs something to do with his twitching hands, feeling dangerously confused and forgetful of that damned _why_ again. For the first time, Barnaby’s grateful for Kotetsu’s terrible taste in movies — the on-screen explosions cover his jackhammer heartbeat and distract Kotetsu at the same time.

After a few minutes, or maybe a few hours, Kotetsu groans and scrubs a hand across his face. “What’re you looking at me like that for?”

Barnaby tilts his head. “Was I looking at you?” The reply is half-hearted, as if he could ever find himself looking anywhere else. 

Kotetsu shoots him an unfooled look, then scratches at his beard, losing himself in thought for a moment. Barnaby sees his chance to escape and starts to stand, either to grab himself something a bit stronger to settle his nerves or run home, but that earns a whine of, “Bunny!” and he knows he’s not getting out of this conversation so easily. 

Though he can’t meet Kotetsu’s eyes, he sighs and turns back to face the old man. “Can I help you?” 

Kotetsu groans at that, wraps his arm easily around Barnaby’s thinner shoulders, tugging him into a clumsy hug. This is becoming dangerous to Barnaby's blood pressure, and he can smell the beer on Kotetsu’s breath mingling with the impossible warmth radiating off of him. 

“Come on,” Kotetsu says. “I can practically feel the waves coming off your brain. What’s going on in there?” He taps Barnaby’s forehead with the tip of his index finger, and Barnaby teeters on the metaphorical knife’s edge, unsure of where he’s going to land when he inevitably falls.

He shakes his head dismissively, and doubles back to what he knows, wriggling himself free of Kotetsu’s suddenly oppressive grasp and huffing indignantly. “It’s nothing.” He knows Kotetsu hates that.

“I hate that!” Kotetsu confirms, pushing his bottom lip into a familiar pout. Barnaby wants to kiss him. “Come on, Bunny, it’s unfair! You always gimme that bullshit and...” he wrinkles his nose, waves his free hand in front of his face for emphasis until he finds the right words. “You get all weird! After all we’ve been through, I trust you, and I want you to trust me enough to open up!”

He’s right, of course, and wrong at the same time. 

Barnaby sighs and slides his glasses up to pinch the bridge of his nose. “I’ll say it again, don’t say things like that so casually.” _My heart can’t take much more of it,_ he swallows down.

Kotetsu throws his hands in the air with an indignant, spoiled noise. “But I mean it!”

Barnaby turns back to the television, not sure of what else to say without giving himself away. He crosses his arms, holding out futile hope that for once, Kotetsu will just _drop it._ Kotetsu’s big brown eyes burn holes into the side of Barnaby’s face, damnably impatient as Barnaby scrambles to find purchase in his own mind.

They’ve had this fight, or at least variations of it, at least a hundred times in the last few months. It’s a wonder Kotetsu hasn’t seen through Barnaby’s piss-poor rebuttals until now, but this time it’s different and they both know it; the air is charged with the same palpable _why_ as before, and Kotetsu isn’t backing down as easily as he usually does. 

__

But really, what else is there to say? Kotetsu is nearly unreadable when it comes to this sort of thing, anyway, and it would be generous to call Barnaby even a romantic novice. Despite the incessant, annoying meddling of the other heroes, Kotetsu always remained unfazed, either too repulsed or too stupid to realize the extent of Barnaby’s... _god,_ what to even call it except love? 

__

This — whatever they have, the not knowing — is simultaneously too much, not enough, and more than Barnaby deserves. It’s more than he can even handle, sending his emotions rapidly cycling between self-pity and wanting and anger the closer he gets to spilling his guts. Kotetsu just doesn’t get it sometimes, doesn’t get _Barnaby_ sometimes. 

__

_It’s your own damn fault,_ Barnaby commiserates, _for keeping everything close to your chest._ His heart feels heavy with the weight of it all, of the guilt he holds for pushing this strange, unsure agenda of his onto Kotetsu, the ever-dedicated widower, just because he shows Barnaby an ounce of kindness. 

__

Eventually, after a long inhale, Barnaby comes to a decision. Kotetsu’s attention has returned briefly to the film, but as soon as Barnaby so much as twitches, his eyes dart back. 

__

Barnaby raises the lukewarm beer can to his lips, unwilling to break the eye contact as he takes a long, steeling swig. “Do you really want to know?” His voice is soft, almost scared, but his resolve remains unwavering. 

__

Kotetsu looks at him incredulously, like he's grown a second head. Okay, he’ll admit, that was a stupid question. It takes Barnaby a moment to gather his words again, to balance himself and come to terms with the possibility of falling to the unpleasant side of the knife, to the loneliness and rejection and real heartbreak, more than just the dull ache of unrequited affection. “There’s just no going back once I say it, alright?”

__

Kotetsu throws his hands up in exasperation. “You’re speaking in riddles, Bunny, jesus.”

__

For such an emotionally attentive partner, Kotetsu’s oblivious and callous nature somehow makes him seem so fucking tactless, and Barnaby is nothing if not lacking in control of his temper. The words tumble out all wrong, too angry, too quick, snapping when he speaks again. “Let me spell it out for you, then, _old man._ I’m tired of you saying things like that because it makes me want to kiss you!”

__

As suddenly as the anger comes, it fades, and Barnaby is left with nothing but nausea.

__

This wasn’t at all how he imagined this scenario. All those sleepless nights, all the times in the training room, all those times he held Kotetsu’s wrist gingerly, needing to feel his heartbeat for himself despite the heart-monitor beeps... If he weren’t squeezing his fists so tightly, frozen with mortification, Barnaby would undoubtedly make some attempt to physically force the words back down his throat.

__

Only a few seconds pass, each of them unwilling to look away as Barnaby’s face pales, mouth agape, but it feels like years. Then, softly, Kotetsu laughs under his breath. Hot shame rolls over Barnaby in waves, bringing with it a fresh wave of indignant anger. His face burns, and he starts to open his mouth, nostrils already flaring, but then his breath catches as Kotetsu tucks warm fingers under his chin, tilts his head up, and kisses him. 

__

Kotetsu’s chapped lips are warm against Barnaby’s own, and it’s like a balloon pops in his chest, draining him of everything except relief and narrowing the world down to just the two of them. 

__

Barnaby blinks, stupidly, before realizing he should probably kiss back at some point, finally allowing his long, pale lashes to flutter shut.

__

It’s over as soon as it began, though, and as much as it makes his heart ache miserably, the nerves churn Barnaby’s stomach. _Oh god, my first kiss, it must have been terrible, oh god, I smell like beer and sweat from the day and—_

__

“I almost missed, Bunny,” Kotetsu whispers, almost apologetically, like he’s afraid he might startle Barnaby away like his namesake. “Sorry, was that all?” 

__

Now it’s Barnaby’s turn to laugh, staccato little noises, almost hysterical with incredulity. The corners of Kotetsu’s mouth lift in his crooked grin, and Barnaby can’t stop himself from taking two fistfuls of his shirt and pulling him back into the shared space. He’s almost nervous that Kotetsu won’t kiss back, but he does, and he only stops when he bumps against Barnaby’s shoulder in an attempt to free his arms, trapped between them. They part long enough for Kotetsu to mumble, “sorry, I just— I gotta touch your hair,” before he threads his fingers through a fistful and finds Barnaby’s lips again.

__

Barnaby goes dizzy with each lazy movement, and it feels like time has stopped— his brain is fried, and nothing is left except Kotetsu and his strong hands on Barnaby’s back and the heady, happy sighs that escape him each time their lips catch awkwardly. 

__

When they part, chests heaving, they just look at each other, both unsure of what comes next. Barnaby’s fingers unconsciously touch his own lips, soft and swollen from the attention, and Kotetsu’s lips yet again part in a wide, self-satisfied smile that sends a shiver up Barnaby’s spine. When he miraculously regains the ability to form coherent thought, he wonders if it hurts Kotetsu’s face, smiling as often and as bright as he does. Barnaby flushes, turns his head in embarrassment; suddenly, he realizes his face hurts, too.

__

**Author's Note:**

> hit me @blondeanimeboy on twitter to talk to me abt these men pls..... 
> 
> title is from sophie calle private game by of montreal, which i heavily associate w taibani LOL


End file.
